Hanging by a Thread

by ShiningGalaxy

Tessa Long had gone to Transylvania after much convincing from her concerned co-workers and knew that a good vacation away from everything is just what she needed. Well, that's what it was supposed to be, but fate had other plans when she meets Dracula, the Prince of Darkness, and as more time is spent at the hotel, feelings begin to form between the two, and maybe even a zing.

1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Hotel Transylvania or anything associated with it, I do however, own my characters Tessa Long, her mother, and any character that you know isn't in the movie(s) are mine...

Pairing: Dracula/OC

xxx

They had caught it in time.

That's what the Doctor had said.

Her mom was going to be fine.

That's what the Doctor had said.

Just a few more treatments and the cancer should be completely gone.

That's what the Doctor's had said.

The Doctor's were wrong as she stared at the casket of where her mother was being laid to rest, her eyes were red and puffy but there were no tears.

All there was, was nothing but complete emptiness, a hollow and broken part in her heart as she looked down at the lifeless body of her mother, her hands up near her chest with a bouquet of roses underneath, her eyes closed.

She looked peaceful, she looked asleep.

In the background she heard her family talking, but she didn't want to listen to them. Nothing mattered anymore. Her life had felt like it was completely torn apart.

And there was nothing that no one could do to bring back a loved one.

No matter how much you wanted to.

The sounds of thunder rumbling in the distance could be heard, long after the funeral ceremony had taken place, rain pattered down on the ground and she could hear her name being called but she could care less.

Why couldn't people see that all she wanted was to be alone with her mother one last time before she left her in that cemetery?

A painful lump had made its way into her throat and it was difficult to swallow as Tessa glanced at the tomb stone behind the freshly dug earth that had been filled back in. Slowly, the young woman made it over to where the head of the grave was and sat down, not caring about her black dress, nor caring about the fact that it was raining heavy now.

How long she stayed there, she didn't know, but a sob slipped past her parted lips as she placed a hand upon the cool stone, running it along her mother's name, reading over and over and over again the wording that was etched into it.

Mary Isabelle Long
1972 - 2014
Death leaves a heartache that no one can heal,
love leaves a memory that no one can steal.